


Finding the Pattern

by theherocomplex



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apritello, F/M, Fake Marriage, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/pseuds/theherocomplex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a mark of how truly weird Leo’s life has become that April saying “So, apparently Donnie and I are married now” over dinner doesn’t even make anyone but Fugitoid look up from the table.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding the Pattern

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Apritello Day 2016. So many hugs and thanks to @kleptotello for hosting and inspiring this day, to @hotmilkytea for being the best beta-reader, cheerleader, and tea, and to everyone who contributed . 
> 
> This takes place during Season 4, but contains only general spoilers for the season, and features me trying my hand at that most venerable of tropes: fake marriage! 
> 
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_RL__8o8-k).

It’s a mark of how truly weird Leo’s life has become that April saying “So, apparently Donnie and I are married now” over dinner doesn’t even make anyone but Fugitoid look up from the table. Casey pauses before he turns the next page in his magazine — and quite frankly, Leo’s more amazed that Casey knows how to read than by what just came out of April’s mouth — but that’s it.

Obviously it’s a joke, just something to get a rise out of everyone, but April’s never been cruel to Donnie, and if this is a joke, it’s coming right up to the edge, if not falling over it. So Leo waits, chewing his mouthful slowly, listening for Donnie’s laugh or for April to say _just kidding!_

Donnie laughs, a quiet little huff of air, but no _just kidding!_ comes out of April’s mouth. Instead, she holds up one slender wrist and shakes a thin braided bracelet out of her sleeve. Leo stares; he’d seen Donnie come back wearing one, but he’d chalked it up to Donnie’s usual acquisitive instincts, and just hoped Donnie’s kleptomaniac urges had been left on the ship.

“See?” says April. “ _Married_.” She frowns at the bracelet, then tugs her sleeve back down to hide it.

“Congratulations,” Mikey mumbles through a mouthful, after the silence has stretched on just a touch too long. Raph grunts, and Casey picks his teeth. Leo finally takes a glance at April, and finds her pushing her meat substitute around her plate, her chin in her hand.

Leo sets his own fork down and leans back, just casual enough not to draw attention. She’s not happy about _something_ , but it’s not the level of pissed-off that Leo would expect from her if Donnie had gotten her into this mess. April looks more…thoughtful, than mad, and Leo’s not quite sure what to do about that.

He chances a look at Donnie, who’s looking anywhere but at April, with a forced kind of nonchalance.

So: apparently whatever united his brother with the girl of his dreams isn’t worth smiling over. Leo stifles a sigh, and makes himself smile. On the other side of the table, Fugitoid flutters his hands, his eyes flipping between hearts and question marks, but April and Donnie don't even glance his way. Raph catches Leo’s eye, and shrugs before turning back to his food.

Which means, as usual, it’s up to Leo.

“Oh?” he prompts, trying for interested. “How did…why…uh. Married. _Marriage._ ”

So much for interested. He barely sounded _literate._

Donnie, of all people, takes pity on him. “ _We-ell_ ,” he says, drawing out the word and still not looking at April. “Getting married’s better than getting arrested, right?”

“Oh, well, yes, that _is_ true,” says Fugitoid encouragingly, though the question’s clearly rhetorical.

Leo’s stomach clenches; Donnie’s studied indifference, and the careful way he cuts his meat substitute into ever-smaller pieces before setting his fork and knife aside, are the biggest _danger!_ signs Leo can think of — in this particular context. Donnie can’t help caring about everything, one way or another, so when he tries _not_ to…

“Tell me we’re not going to have to figure out a space annulment on top of everything else,” he jokes, and catches Donnie’s minute flinch. April’s nostrils flare, and she drops her fork with a clatter before she shoves away from the table, and stalks out the door.

Across the table, Fugitoid’s eyes briefly become teardrops.

 _Crap_ , Leo thinks, as Donnie very carefully wipes his mouth, and then picks up his knife and fork again. _Crap, crap, crap_.

***

Leo gets the story out of Donnie late that night, when it’s clear April’s not coming out of her room any time soon.

“It was an accident,” Donnie says, rubbing at a smudge on his window and not looking at Leo. The metallic strands of his bracelet — closer to his elbow than his wrist — catch the faint overhead light, and Leo has to force his eyes away. Their reflections, blurred and far away, stare back at them. “I was just trying to buy some parts — _actually buy_ them, Leo, I promise,” Donnie adds, “with _actual money_ — and April was there, and we were — we were just _talking,_ you know, _haggling_ with the store owner _,_ and this guy bumps into us —”

What follows is almost too pathetic to listen to. Apparently said _guy_ had been a priest of some sect or other, and in the course of apologizing, they’d offered to help with the negotiations for a new power converter — but, translators being imperfect and all, Donnie and April hadn’t realized the guy had decided to get them the _husband and wife_ discount, by marrying them on the spot.

Not until it was too late, with the bracelets around their wrists and the entire market cheering them on. Leo’s head hurts just imagining it.

 _You are a pattern, and a long journey,_ the priest told them as it tied the bracelets around their wrists. _There are no mistakes, only delays._

It makes literally no sense to hear, and makes even less sense the longer Leo thinks about it, but any attempt to poke holes in Donnie’s story is drowned out by the quiet, familiar pity he feels as Donnie stares out the window, tugging absently at the bracelet.

“So, she’s pretty mad about it, huh?” Leo says, then winces as Donnie’s shoulders sag.

“Yeah.” Donnie rubs his arms. “She made some joke about getting the parts at cost, but then she just got…kind of quiet.”

“And now you’re married.”

“Now we’re married.” Donnie leans his head against the window. “I mean, it’s not _real_. Once we get back home — well, not even then. It’s not real now.” Donnie swallows, then shrugs. “I’ll figure it out, Leo. Don’t worry.”

There’s nothing for Leo to do but squeeze Donnie’s shoulder, and sit with him until Donnie curls on his side, a pointed, silent instruction to _go_.

On his way to his own room, Leo passes April, her hair wet and braided. She lifts her chin as she passes, and sets her jaw, and Leo knows better than to say anything at all.

***

Leo hopes that the rest of the family will let this particular humiliation of Donnie and April’s die, at least until they get it fixed and then any mocking can happen at a safe emotional distance. No one made comments at dinner, no one seemed to _care_ at dinner, and he takes that as a good sign. Raph might be tempted, but even with his warped idea of tough love, he knows better than to kick Donnie when he’s down.

Mikey, on the other hand, has to at least test the waters.

The usual traffic jam at the shower means Leo’s the second to last getting to breakfast, and he walks in just as April’s walking out, her face clouded and her mouth fixed in a thin, murderous little line.

 _Crap_ , he thinks miserably, and walks into the mess to find Mikey smiling innocently up at him from under the giant _JUST MARRIED!_ sign dangling from the ceiling.

To Leo’s eternal disappointment, his first reaction isn’t to tell Mikey to tear the sign down before Donnie walks in. It’s not even his second. No, his first reaction is to laugh, because he is an unworthy son and brother — and his second is to wonder where Mikey managed to get the glitter glue.

 _Don’t ask,_ he tells himself. Then, he takes a deep breath, makes sure he’s not going to smile and betray himself, and stalks over to tear the sign down himself.

***

The thing is, it _is_ hilarious, and Leo can’t really blame Mikey for trying to find something funny in this latest catastrophe. And Donnie and April getting fake-space-married doesn’t even _rank_ on his personal scale of catastrophes, not when _I watched my father die in front of me_ and _the Earth will be nothing but scattered molecules in a few months unless we can stop it_ top the list.

It’s not like everyone _couldn’t_ use a laugh or two. So while he _knows_ he should make sure Mikey’s not humming Pachelbel’s Canon whenever Donnie walks into a room, he’s not always as fast as he could be at shutting Mikey up. The end result is that April starts taking her meals in her room, and Donnie starts _rinsing_ Mikey in the morning practices.

One small mercy, in a galaxy full of monsters.

Leo will take it.

***

Of course, Mikey loses interest in teasing Donnie after Day Three Of Marital Shenanigans — though Donnie keeps handing his shell to him in practice — but that’s when Casey Jones, Mystical Shit-Stirrer, decides to take over.

“So,” Casey says, the first night April joins them for dinner. “ _So_. Camel-breath. You and Red got all hitched.”

Leo looks up so fast he cracks his neck, and while he’s wincing, he stomps on Casey’s foot, as hard as he can.

But pain means nothing to Casey Jones, especially when it’s weighed against the prospect of causing Donnie emotional trauma, so he just grins, ignores Leo completely, and leans across the table.

Because he’s spent more than five minutes with Casey, Fugitoid’s eyes have been flashing huge x’s since Casey opened his mouth. _Yeah_ , _no kidding_ , Leo thinks, grinding his heel into Casey’s foot. _But you try shutting him up._

“Case,” says Raph, not looking up from his plate.

“Just _one_ question,” Casey wheedles, twirling his fork and knife like drumsticks. Donnie glares at him with narrowed eyes, and April’s fist is curled so tight around her spoon that her knuckles are completely bloodless. “Just one, okay?”

“No,” says April, her mouth hardening. “So _help me_ , Casey Jones, if you keep talking, I will —”

“You guys had a _honeymoon_ yet?” Casey drawls, waggling his eyebrows and caressing each word like it’s season tickets to the Rangers. “A little one-on-one time?”

“Oh my _god,_ ” snaps April, tossing her spoon to the table. “Get over it, we’re not _really_ married. It doesn’t mean _anything_.”

Mikey just wants to get a laugh out of someone, and Casey just wants to get a rise out of Donnie. There’s nothing malicious in any of it, no matter how thoughtless or how bad their timing is.

April doesn’t want to hurt Donnie either, deep down. Leo’s sure of that. It’s just too bad she’s so good at it.

She realizes what she’s said a moment later, when the table goes quiet. Donnie calmly picks up his cup and takes a long, long drink, then sets it down, his face a perfect blank.

“Oh,” says April, her face flushed red. “Donnie, I’m sorry, that was —”

“Completely true,” Donnie interrupts. He shrugs, then grins at her, so brightly that April starts to smile back. “But hey, it’ll be a good story when we get home, right?”

Leo holds his breath. Donnie’s not this good an actor. Never has been, never will be. So what’s it costing him, to act like it doesn’t matter?

April’s gaze goes dark, and her smile falters. “Yeah,” she says, looking away. “Just don’t tell my dad. I don’t think he’d be — he’ll be ready for hearing about my teen marriage, on top of everything else.”

There’s a heartbeat of absolute silence, when not even the routine clicks and whirrs of the ship intrude, and Leo feels something passing by: a missed opportunity, a chance to help, he doesn’t know, but there’s _something_ he should be seeing _—_

“You could be on MTV, Red!” Casey yelps, and the fragile tension over the table breaks. April whips a glare in Casey’s direction, Mikey starts babbling about someone named Farrah, and Fugitoid just shakes his head. It’s complete chaos, beautiful _, normal_ chaos that only ends when Raph claps a hand over Casey’s mouth and drags him out of the room.

 _Crisis averted_ , Leo thinks, watching April pass Donnie dessert, and he’s almost relieved. It’s done. They’re going to be fine.

***

Fugitoid blocks the hatch, arms spread wide. “This is a _quick stop_ ,” he says, glaring at everyone, but at Casey and Mikey in particular. Leo forces down a smile, and tries to look like he’s paying attention. “And there are _ground rules_.”

Raph groans. “Seriously? If this is a quick stop, why waste time on _rules_?”

“Because _some people_ ,” Fugitoid says loftily, “need to be reminded on proper codes of conduct.”

“ _Casey_ ,” Mikey coughs under his breath, and smiles angelically when Fugitoid and Casey stare daggers in his direction. “Sorry, it’s a little dusty in here.”

Fugitoid’s eyes go blank, long enough for Leo to have a vision of being stuffed out an airlock — saving the galaxy is great and honorable and all, but Leo gets the feeling Fugitoid’s starting to regret being the good guy — then flicker back to life.

“At any rate! These rules are simple, and should help you avoid any unfortunate moments. Do not steal. Do not make eye contact with any Denebians with purple throats —”

“I don’t see why I gotta be lectured,” Casey mutters, scuffing his foot.

Leo closes his eyes. “Casey, the last time we let you loose on a space station, you came back with sentient intestinal flora.”

“Haha, _classic_.”

“Shut up, Mikey!” Leo and Casey yell in unison. On Fugitoid’s far side, Donnie leans over to whisper something to April. Leo feels a sweet, cool current of relief, because if they’re talking, it’s not so bad, is it? They’ll figure out this whole mess and things can go back to normal.

But Casey, like any predator, is attracted to movement, and that’s all he needs to shift his annoyance from Mikey to Donnie — and Leo’s too slow, again, to stop him.

“It’s not like I got _accidentally married_ ,” Casey says, polishing his nails on his hoodie. He winks at April, who goes bright scarlet, and crosses her arms over her chest.  

Now Donnie’s staring daggers at Casey, and Leo has begun to see the attraction of the airlock. For himself, for his family — it doesn’t matter. Anything to put him out of his misery.

Then, he gets a look at Donnie’s face, the soft, crestfallen expression that Donnie can’t quite hide as April stalks out of the hatch, and remembers that no matter how bad he’s got it, Donnie’s always going to have it worse.

***

Leo sticks close to Donnie as they walk through the markets. He’s careful not to ask too many questions, or to act too interested in the tech glittering all around them; Donnie would see through that in a second, and judging by the stiffness in his shoulders, he wouldn’t take kindly to Leo trying to distract him. But Leo can’t leave Donnie alone, not when this humiliation just won’t end, so he keeps pace with his brother, and tries not to stare.

The weapons on display make Leo’s mouth water — there’s a pair of empty sword hilts that only generate blades when their owner holds them, if his translator got the sign right, and someone claiming to sell anti-entropic shields, whatever those are, has a stall set up in the middle of the corridor.

Leo can’t ignore how little time they have left, but he can still enjoy window-shopping.

“ _Oooh_ ,” says Donnie, his quiet sulk forgotten. “Is that — oh, wow, it is!” Without bothering to explain what caught his eye, he abandons Leo to run toward a half-hidden booth between a food cart and a toyseller. “Leo, check this out!”

“What is it?” Leo asks, ambling up behind Donnie.

“They’re like — oh, jeez, Martin would _kill_ for one of these, it’s like the ultimate Bag of Holding!” Donnie holds up a tiny sack, shaking it and grinning maniacally at the clunking sounds coming from inside. “See, look, it actually opens onto a part of null space, so its volume is technically infinite! You know, like Hermione’s purse in _Deathly Hallows_? No?” He shakes the bag again, in front of Leo’s face. “Come on, Leo, even _Raph_ would have to admit this is pretty cool.”

“If you say so, Donnie.” Leo smiles, more pleased with Donnie’s sudden good mood than the bag itself, which looks like a crumpled, metallic paper sack to him. “But what’s the point? I mean, we’ve got a whole spaceship —”

“It’s not _our_ spaceship,” Donnie tells him, before turning back to the many-armed Rylen running the booth. “How much is this, please?” His face falls once the shopkeeper reels off a price, and he sighs, setting the bag down. “Oh, okay. Thank you. Come on, Leo.”

The shopkeeper’s voice rises sharply as he starts to walk away. “Wait, young male! Your arm!” They point their left hands at Donnie, nodding at Leo. “He has the bracelet!”

 _Crap,_ Leo thinks, for the thousandth time that month. _Just what we need_.

Donnie deflates — not enough so anyone who hasn’t known him for his entire life would see, but enough to make Leo’s head hurt — then turns around, a polite, empty smile on his face.

“It’s not what you think,” he says, firmly. “I’m not really —”

“I know that bracelet!” The shopkeeper hitches itself over its wares, and grabs Donnie’s wrist. “Beautiful! How long have you been married? It’s been a while since I saw such a bracelet. You must have quite a strong bond, to deserve such colors!”

“Oh, no,” Donnie says, his smile disappearing and his face freezing in horror. “It’s not — I’m not — Leo, help? Please?”

“Where is your spouse?” booms the shopkeeper. Now people are starting to stare, conversations are fading away, and Leo just wants to melt through the floor. And if it’s this embarrassing for him, it’s got to be exponentially worse for Donnie.

“He’s not married,” Leo says, wincing with every word, because Donnie just keeps deflating, sinking deeper into his shell even as the shopkeeper keeps congratulating him. “It’s just some confusion, so if you could, uh, let him go, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Guys? Everything okay?”

Leo facepalms. “Hi, April,” he says, into his hand. He peers through his fingers as April makes her way through the crowd, her hand on her blaster. “We’re good, just some, uh —”

The shopkeeper cries out, a dual-toned sound of pure joy. “So _this_ is your spouse!” it yells. “Well done! Even _I_ can see how close you are.” It shakes Donnie’s arm, and by extension the rest of Donnie, then lets go with one hand to grab April’s arm and reel her in too. “The love practically shines off you both!”

Someone in the crowd starts to applaud, and April makes a furious, indistinct choking noise. Donnie, however, has just gone limp, and has his eyes fixed on the floor.

Leo really should step in and end this torture now, but his feet are rooted to the spot. It’s just a matter of time before April loses her temper and sets off an intergalactic incident, or before Donnie collapses under the weight of his own humiliation and winks out of existence completely — but Leo can’t move. He just watches.

“Please,” says the shopkeeper. “If there’s anything you need, anything I can provide, it’s yours! After all —” It beams, clear, needle-sharp teeth shining in the light, “you two are a good omen!”

“All right,” says Leo, forcing himself to move. April’s bright red, Donnie’s practically catatonic with embarrassment, and Fugitoid is going to _kill_ them for this. “Thank you, we really appreciate that, but we need to —”

“Yes,” says April, out of nowhere. “Thank you. We really appreciate it.” Her flush is starting to fade, and she offers a brilliant, wide-eyed smile to the shopkeeper. “We’re just so happy, aren’t we, Donnie?”

There’s a beat before Donnie looks up, all wide eyes and slack mouth, but he nods and manages to slap a serviceable smile on his face in the nick of time. “So happy,” he murmurs, staring at April.

The crowd sighs.

“I mean,” April says, “it was so _sudden_ , but you know, you can’t say no when it’s the real thing, right?” She’s staring back at Donnie, her smile melting into something soft, almost real. For a moment, Leo nearly believes what she’s saying, but he knows better. She’s walked out of too many rooms because Mikey yelled _here comes the bride!_ for him to believe that she could ever mean what she’s saying.

But he _is_ impressed, grudgingly. A kunoichi uses all the tools at her disposal. Leo just wishes the current tool wasn’t Donnie’s too-huge, too-easy-to-break heart.

“Oh,” says the shopkeeper, beaming. “I know _just_ what you mean.”

“So here we are, married.” April shrugs, deftly extracting her arm from the shopkeeper’s grip, then slowly unwrapping its fingers from Donnie’s hand. “Never expected that, did we, Donnie?”

“Uh, no,” says Donnie, rubbing his wrist, never looking away from April. “I never did.”

 _Dammit_ , _Donnie_ , Leo thinks. He should have moved faster. And he should have done something before April stood on tiptoes, her hands braced on Donnie’s arm, and kissed Donnie right on the corner of his mouth. In public, where anyone could see.

Donnie’s eyes shut, his face constricts, but only Leo sees, only Leo notices the tiny crack in Donnie’s composure. Everyone else is watching April as she turns back to the shopkeeper.

“Since you’re offering,” she says, all business, "do you have any baryonic modulators? We could use ten.“

***

Leo’s too furious with April to speak — he knows about Northampton, _everyone_ knows about Northampton, but no one had to _see_ Northampton, so at least Donnie had his pride when that was done. Not this time. This time, a few hundred people saw, and a few hundred people heard April using Donnie’s heart as a bargaining chip.

But he’s impressed, too, in the leader part of his brain. They needed the modulators, and April got them. They don’t have time to worry about hurt feelings.

 _But if we don’t,_ he thinks, washing his hands after training, _then what’s the point? Why even bother trying to stay a family?_

There’s no easy answer. All he knows is that both April and Donnie are locked in their separate rooms, thinking their unknowable, separate thoughts, and that neither of them answered when he knocked. All he can do is try and sleep.

***

That night, Leo wakes up, one image glowing in the center of his mind: Donnie hasn’t taken off his bracelet yet — and neither has April.

***

The ship settles back into its usual routine after that: Raph and Casey disappear for hours to watch wrestling videos, Mikey cooks, April and Donnie scan for planets, and Leo tries to keep up their training. It’s a lot more work than he ever thought it would be, constant planning and strategizing, and his respect for Splinter’s patience — and ingenuity — keeps growing.

It hurts, too, knowing that Splinter’s out there, that by some trick of physics and time he’s _not_ dead — and it hurts even more to know that the same trick means that right now, there’s no home for them on Earth.

But there’s enough to keep them busy, besides their routine on the ship, and after two weeks, everyone begins to forget about That Hilarious Time April and Donnie Got Married _,_ and focus on other things. Like _arenas_ , and trying to stay one step ahead of the Triceratons. And beyond that, there’s the hope of home, and making sure they never have to watch Splinter fall, or white light eating the Earth.

Leo can’t believe he’s almost looking forward to dealing with Shredder again. That’s a thought for another time, another life, so he puts it away and goes back to planning — right up until he overhears Casey and April, outside his bedroom.

"Seriously? You’re _still_ wearin’ that thing?” Casey scoffs, and there’s a squeaking noise as his sneakers slip on the smooth floor tiles. Leo shifts in his chair, quietly — it’s not eavesdropping if someone’s talking outside your open door, right? — until he can see April’s faint reflection on his wall.

“Wow, congratulations, Casey,” April says. “You’re using your eyes. I’m so proud of you.”

“Whoa, easy on the snark, I was just sayin’.” Shadows flicker on the walls, and though Leo can’t see Casey, he can picture him holding up both hands, warding off April’s sharp tone. “It’s been what, like, three weeks now? I think Donnie’s over it, you’re not gonna hurt his feelings if you take it off. I mean, he said —”

“I know what Donnie said.”

“I just — he’s a big turtle, you don’t have to keep wearin’ it for him.” The shadows dance again; Casey’s shrugging. “I just — look, April, you know he’s still into you, right?”

April sighs, shaking her head. “What I don’t know is how this is your business, Casey.”

“He’s _still_ into you,” Casey says, his voice quiet. “And wearin’ that — you don’t think it gives him like, false hope or somethin’? I’m just sayin’ — hold up! I’m just sayin’, don’t lead him on.”

Leo blinks. This is — unexpected. He keeps expecting one of them to notice that his door is wide open, and that nothing they say is private, but April just laughs, a sad little sound.

“You’ve got no idea,” she says, so tired Leo’s exhausted just listening to her. “Just let it go, Casey. Donnie’ll figure it out.”

Casey scoffs again. “Not if you keep wearin’ that. He’s scannin’ for planets, not for intergalactic divorce courts.”

“Donnie,” April says, her voice tight, “will figure it out.”

This time, Casey doesn’t scoff. He just makes a dark little sound in the back of his throat, and then his sneakers squeak on the tiles. “Whatever. You do you, I said my piece.”

Leo lets out his breath silently, watching April’s reflection. She rubs her forehead, sighs, and then walks in the opposite direction from Casey, her footsteps silent.

Donnie always figures it out. Donnie’s had it figured out from day one. So what’s left? Could April actually —

“Yo, Fearless!” yells Raph. “Your turn for the shower! Get it before Mikey uses up all the hot water!”

***

Fugitoid bustles into the mess, hands fluttering. “Wonderful news!” he says, a soft chime punctuating his sentence. “Donatello, April, I’ve been researching the precise sect your priest belongs to, and I’ve finally discovered it!” He waits for excitement that doesn’t come, then slumps down.

“Oh?” says Leo, hating his life, when it’s clear no one else is going to bother. April’s staring at Donnie, who just looks politely interested. “And?”

“Apparently,” Fugitoid says, clearly delighted someone’s paying attention, “they were married by a priest of the Denbravi sect, from Altair IV!”

“Nice!” says Casey, balancing one foot on his knee. “You guys got married by Khal Drogo!”

That derails the conversation for a good five minutes, and by the time Fugitoid has everyone back on track, April’s not looking at Donnie anymore, just at the Fugitoid.

“So, it can be annulled?” Donnie asks, without a quaver in his voice.

“Completely and utterly!” Fugitoid sits down at the table, flashing everyone smiles in their turn. “It means heading back to the same station — it has to be performed by the same priest, of course — but we can afford a small detour. And then it’s done! I’ve already plotted the course. Unless…?”

The sentence hangs in the air, light as smoke, but Donnie just nods.

“Then let’s go,” he says, and grins at April. She smiles back, tugging at the sleeves of her jumpsuit.

Leo can’t help looking — it’s all fine on the surface, so maybe Donnie’s figured out whatever April wanted him too — but he has to know. And sure enough, gleaming from both of their wrists, are the wedding bracelets. A little dull, maybe, from being worn, but undeniably present.

 _Whatever_ , Leo thinks, half-listening as Fugitoid babbles about refueling. _It’ll be over soon. Let it go._

***

Only Leo and Fugitoid can be bothered to go with April and Donnie to their annulment; Mikey’s napping, and Raph and Casey have disappeared yet again. Amazing, Leo muses, how fast even space stations and aliens become old news.

They find the priest in a small, smoky temple, just off the main thoroughfare, kneeling in front of a finger-sized gold icon. It smiles when they enter, rising gracefully to its feet, but the smile doesn’t last past the first three words of Fugitoid’s explanation.

“Really?” says the priest, its eyes bright as it stares at April and Donnie. “An annulment? But — I saw you together. The pattern – this was not a mistake.”

“It was,” says Donnie, firmly. “I mean, thank you for helping us, but — but it’s not real.”

It’s only because Leo knows Donnie so well that he notices the little hitch before Donnie reaches up and pulls off the bracelet. The thin strands snap easily, and then it’s just a handful of thread, worn and faded, nothing more. He holds it out to the priest, smiling. “I think we have to give this back to you, right?”

The priest nods, and wordlessly holds out its hands. It’s a beautiful creature, especially in comparison to most of the aliens they’ve run into. Leo’s gotten used to people having four eyes or more, or tentacles, or no mouths, but the priest is tall, and slender, with dark fur instead of scales, and bright golden eyes. It smells like salt, up close.

Leo glances over at April, who’s fiddling with her own bracelet, eyes on the floor.

“Child?” says the priest, holding out its cupped hands. “Break it, and it’s over.”

“Right.” April snaps the bracelet, then lifts her chin and drops the threads onto its palm. “It’s over.” She glances at Donnie. “Easiest divorce ever, right?”

“If only everything was this simple,” he replies, smiling so easily that Leo finds himself relaxing. Maybe this is what Donnie needed — not Raph’s tough love, or Casey’s teasing. Just a wake-up call, reminding him that certain things aren’t meant to happen. It’s a harder lesson than Donnie deserved, but at least he’s learned it. No more mooning around over April. All it took was a mistake for him to finally understand.

The priest clears its throat, musically, and everyone turns back to stare. “You know,” it says. “I have made many marriages, in my time. Some unexpected, some unlooked-for. But I have never been wrong.” It runs the broken bracelets between its hands. “I am sorry you had to suffer my first mistake. I will be more careful, in the future.”

“It’s fine,” says Donnie, too quickly. Leo looks at him sharply, reading his face for any clues, but it’s just Donnie, kind, polite Donnie. “No harm done.”

“Nope,” says April, with a smile of her own. “Thanks though, for trying.”

The priest bows, then sinks back onto its cushion to face the icon once more. Leo slips out last, with a final look back at the priest, as it toys with the bracelets.

No harm done.

***

Fugitoid taps his knuckles on the dashboard. “Where _is_ that girl?” he asks no one in particular. Leo looks up from his book as Fugitoid starts to pace. “I told her, we depart at oh-eight-thirty precisely! Where is —”

“Sorry!” April bursts into the room, breathless and with her hair falling out of her ponytail. “Lost track of time. I’m here!”

“ _Well_ ,” says Fugitoid, clearly debating whether or not to lecture her. “Punctuality!” he says, wagging a finger in her direction, and then sits down again, and punches in the launch codes.

“Where were you?” Leo whispers out of the corner of his mouth, as April straps into her pod beside him. “Everything okay?”

“We’re all good, Leo,” she whispers back. He frowns at her, but she grins back, happier than he’s seen her in weeks. “Just had to grab one last thing.”

Before he can ask her what that last thing was, Fugitoid undocks the ship, and the engines spinning up drown out his voice.

 _It’s fine,_ he tells himself, glancing over April’s head at Donnie. _It’s done_.

***

“Hey, Donnie? Got a second?”

Donnie looks up from his tool bench, shoves his goggles on top of his head. There’s no way to stop his heart from skipping when he sees April’s hopeful smile, but he’s gotten better at ignoring it, and even better at ignoring the empty space on his arm. “Yeah, just poking around. What’s up?”

“I got you something,” she says, flopping into the empty chair next to his.

“Oh, really?” He slams the lid on his too-eager smile, and balances his elbow against his desk. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I did,” April says, smug as you please, and shoves a small box toward him. “Go on, open it.”

He doesn’t, not right away. He just wants a moment to enjoy her company, a few quiet minutes with his best friend. It’s the most comfortable they’ve been in weeks, no crackle of awkwardness between them, the way it hasn’t been since —

 _Before you got fake-married_ , his brain supplies, _and half the time she couldn’t stand to be around you._

Donnie squares his shoulders, and picks up the box. It’s light as air, and he can’t imagine what could be inside. “Do I get three guesses?” he asks, shaking it and frowning when a soft scraping noise leaks out. “I know it’s smaller than a breadbox, so…”

“That’s what _you_ think.” April smirks at him, spinning lazily in her chair. “Come on, _open_ it.”

“Fine, _fine_ , if you insist.” He unpicks the bow, and lifts off the lid — and then his breath catches.

“Oh,” he says, lifting the tiny sack out with one hand. “April, thank you.” It fits in his palm, so weightless it nearly floats.

“That’s not all,” April says, almost shy. She nudges his leg with her foot. “Go ahead. Look inside.”

Donnie swallows. “I don’t — April, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I know, Donnie,” she says, suddenly still. “Please, just look inside.”

The air inside the bag is cool and dry. Donnie knows the space within is infinite, that you could hide an entire world in there and still be able to carry it in your pocket, but his fingers brush April’s second gift right away. He knows what it is, as soon as he touches it.

“ _April_.” His heart starts to race. He doesn’t get things like this, he doesn’t. He gets honorable mentions and try-agains and he gets _crushed_ , and he’s getting used to that. He doesn’t get to see April watching him with huge, hopeful eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I messed up,” she says. “I — it started wrong, Donnie, and I hated everyone taking shots at me — at us, but I did want it. I do want it. Just…not that way.” She rubs her arms. “I thought you’d figure it out when I never took the bracelet off, and I wouldn’t have to say anything. I’m sorry, I just — I should have.”

Donnie’s fingers close around the soft threads, and he pulls out the bracelets, staring as the frayed ends catch the light. “You went back,” he says, rhetorically. “But it’s done — in the market —”

“I’m sorry.” April covers his hand with both of hers, cupping the bracelets between them. “I didn’t know, not till then, and it was so public —”

“You should have _told_ me,” Donnie says. His stomach drops. “April, you —”

She kisses him, lightly, in the space between one word and the next. “I know,” she whispers, barely pulling away. “But I’m telling you now. I was dumb, and I’m sorry, but — do you? Want to try?”

The answer’s _yes_ , it’s always been _yes_ , and it might always be _yes_. Donnie just doesn’t know what to say or do, now that the choice is his, now that their positions have finally shifted, and April’s the one waiting for him to make his move.

The bracelets warm slowly, trapped inside their hands. Broken, yes, but not undone.

“You’re lucky I don’t hold a grudge,” he says, and April blinks at him for three full seconds before what he said sinks in. Then she starts laughing, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and _he_ kisses _her_ , for the first time.

“You should have seen how happy that priest was. They made me promise to bring you back, sometime,” she says, in between kisses. “I’m so lucky, Donnie.”

“Oh, no.” Donnie pulls her into his lap, pleased beyond words at how easily she fits, and how warm she is against him. “I think I’ve cornered the luck market, Miss O'Neil.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree,” she replies. “But Donnie?”

“Mm?” He’s too busy kissing her cheek and forehead to pay actual attention to what she says next, but one word catches his ear. “Sorry, what?” Donnie says, blinking away the happy daze fogging his brain. April. _April_.

“I said, Casey was right about one thing — I never did get a honeymoon.” She grins at him as he gapes at her, then leans her head on his shoulder. “Kidding! Well, sort of.”

“I — I think I can make up for that,” says Donnie, sweet golden warmth filling him — it’s April’s happiness, blending with his own — and he squeezes his hand tight around the bracelets, as April kisses him again, and again, and again.

As much as it galls Donnie to think this, the priest – _the priest_ – was right. There was no mistake. A long time ago, millions of molecules started their journey toward each other, binding together and breaking apart and coming together again. Over billions of years, through the great forges of stars and the cold, lifeless seas between galaxies, the molecules traveled, reshaping themselves as they came into a thousand different patterns — until they reached Earth, a single planet in a forgettable little solar system.

Then — then they became Donnie, and they became April, and here they are, these unexpected shapes, these long-awaited patterns, finally whole after their long, long travels through space.

The odds were against it, but they made it. There was no mistake.

“Hey,” says April. Donnie opens his eyes, and finds her barely a centimeter away. “What are you thinking about?”

“Molecules,” he answers.

Anyone else would have rolled their eyes, but April just smiles. “You nerd,” she says, resting her forehead on his. “Care to share with the class?”

“Maybe later,” he says, and pulls her close.


End file.
